When an open door slams shut to a heart
Anguish takes off running through fields of cotton
Grabbing hold of bolls for remembering when
‘Love is not made to be forgotten’.
At the end of a long drawn out pier
Lies love’s whimpering orphan
Covered in remains of a heart on fire
Wanting to cuddle in bolls of loving’s soften.
Eminently glint and starlit spark
Fall gently to and fro through dark cold frigid,
Flashbacks run through cotton fields an ignite,
A burning bridge never leaves a flame in sight!
© 2013-2018 Myth*.(All rights reserved)
Thank you so very much for reading my poems!
Be safe in the world!